Chapter 12 - THE VAULT
The clock in the kitchen read 11:45 AM.
I sat at the island, my phone resting on the marble countertop.
Upstairs, Ethan was playing with his dinosaur toys, completely oblivious to the ticking time bomb of our lives.
Marcus stood by the back door, a loaded rifle slung across his chest.
11:50 AM.
The silence in the house was deafening.
“Marcus,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “Is the jet ready?”
“Yes, ma'am. Fueled and waiting at the private airstrip.”
11:55 AM.
My palms were sweating.
I stared at the black screen of the phone, praying for it to light up.
Nicholas had gone into the lion's den. A bank in Manhattan owned by the oldest mafia families in the city. If his father was truly alive, Box 815 was either the ultimate truth—or a trap.
11:58 AM.
I stood up. I couldn't breathe.
I walked to the stairs.
“Ethan!” I called out, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “Put your shoes on, buddy! We’re going on a trip!”
“Okay, Claire!” he yelled back happily.
11:59 AM.
I grabbed my coat. Marcus racked the slide of his rifle.
12:00 PM.
The phone stayed black.
A tear slipped down my cheek. He wasn't calling. He was gone.
“Let’s move,” Marcus said grimly.
I picked up the phone to put it in my pocket.
Suddenly, it rang.
I nearly dropped it. I hit answer and put it to my ear.
“Nicholas?!”
There was heavy breathing on the other end.
“Nicholas, are you there?”
“Claire.”
It was his voice, but it sounded completely hollow. Broken.
“Nicholas, what happened? What was in the box?”
A long, terrifying pause.
“He’s alive, Claire,” Nicholas whispered, sounding like a terrified child. “My father is alive. And he isn't alone.”
My blood turned to ice. “What do you mean?”
“The box... there was a photograph inside.”
“Of who?”
Nicholas’s breath hitched.
May you like
“Of Elena. She’s standing next to him, Claire. The photo was taken yesterday.”
The phone slipped from my fingers, shattering on the marble floor.
